


the fiction we live

by hellevator



Series: all the ways i numb you out [3]
Category: Shameless (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:09:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellevator/pseuds/hellevator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>appeasing our monsters under the acrylic sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fiction we live

**Author's Note:**

> this is set sometime in season two, probably right before they get caught by frank and mickey goes back to juvie. i hope you enjoy it :)

         "Aren't you on probation?" Gallagher's eyes were locked with his own as Mickey handed the blunt over, blowing out thick white smoke that lingered in the air in front of his pale face, obscuring it for a moment. When it cleared, Mickey made sure to look away. Those green eyes made him nervous. Not in a good way. More like a _you're going to regret every moment of this_ kind of way. His instincts were usually right. So why wasn't he fucking listening to them?  
  
"What do you care?" The back of his shirt was soaked in sweat, sticking to his skin and making him feel itchy. He rubbed his shoulders up against the wall behind them, trying to scratch the distraction away. They were sitting on the bench at the dugout and it must have been at least midnight by now.  
  
"I mean, aren't you on UA's?" The redhead coughed, gagging out smoke. "Don't you get in trouble for this kinda thing?"  
  
"Why don't you let me worry about that?" He had scowled but he could tell Ian was expecting a real answer. So of course, he would press, because he could never shut the hell up. If words weren't choking the air, Gallagher would surely die of an oxygen overdose. "I already took mine for the month.." He explained begrudgingly. If he was so damn annoyed right now, he didn't know what the fuck was stopping him from getting up and walking home.. Well, I mean, he _had_ just put a good amount of weed into that blunt.. he wasn't about to walk away from that. That would just be a _waste_. Plus he was sure he still wreaked of sex - he didn't need the bludgeoning of questions from his brothers when he walked through the door. It was easy to lie, sure, but he was too tired to bother. He'd been up since _seven o-clock_ this morning to work a double at the Kash N Grab. And then Ian had talked him into a quick fuck at the baseball field. And then he remembered he'd brought weed and a blunt wrap. And well, fuck it, right?  
  
"I just don't want you to go back." Ian was familiar and predictable and Mickey really wasn't sure how he felt about that. It'd never gotten this far with anyone before. They both knew what each other needed and it was.. _alright_. Well, the sex was fucking great, anyway. The bullshit in between just exhausted him most of the time.  
  
"I'll end up back sooner or later for somethin'." Which was really not what Mickey had wanted to say at all - but, if he said something that pissed Gallagher off too badly, that meant they weren't fucking for like, _at least two days_. And days were a long time to go without something you've developed a bad habit for. Just because Ian knew how to make him come quick and hard. Just because it was convenient. Just because, really.  
  
The high was clouding up his thoughts. He hadn't gotten stoned since before he had went to juvie. Had to drop some clean piss before they would lessen his drug testing enough that he could get by on smoking once in a while. His probation officer was a stupid, insufferable cunt mostly because she was dumb enough to get so happy at their meetings. Like him being 'sober' and having a job meant he was seriously changing his life around. Like this wasn't one big endless circle he'd never fully get out of. Actually, sometimes Ian got that same stupid hopeful look and Mickey wanted to tell them both to just save it and stop setting themselves up for disappointment.  
  
"Maybe you won't. Maybe things will be different this time." Always so fucking cheerful. Where did it all come from? Where was this fountain of happiness that Ian seemed to be able to find through all the shit and dysfunction blocking the way? It wasn't right, being like that. It didn't make any god damn sense. "Maybe you could get your GED or something? Who knows?"  
  
"I literally wanna punch you in the face right now."  
  
"I think you mean you figuratively want to punch me in the face." Ian nodded matter of factly. Mickey ignored the fact that, no, he _literally_ wanted to, not _figuratively_. But screw it, he didn't feel the need to let Ian know he'd ever paid attention in school.  
  
"You gonna teach me grammar now? What is this, math class?"  
  
".. _What_?" It was only when the redhead next to him started cracking up that Mickey noted his error, and he wasn't sure why he felt so relaxed right now but it was enough - so he started to chuckle too. He flicked the last of the blunt against the fence, sparking ashes falling at their feet before he stomped the butt out.  
  
"You know what I mean, man, shut up." He started to brush the dirt off of the knees of his jeans to no avail. He wasn't sure if it was a permanent stain or if it was just set in from how long he'd been on his knees earlier.  
  
"I ever tell you about the time my brother got us pulled over on Huron Street?" Ian shook his head and looked interested enough, so Mickey continued, not knowing why he was talking at all. (But if he had to hear one more thing about ROTC he was going to get pissed). (And that was one of the top things the redhead liked to bring up during silences). (And he could only pretend not to listen for so long).  
  
"We were _ripped_. Iggy wasn't even phased, dude. His eyes were so fuckin' red. When the cop came up, he asked him, 'Son, how high are you?' and Iggy said, totally serious, ' _No_ , officer, it's _hi, how are you_ '," Mickey snorted at the memory. "We had to run like fifteen fucking blocks to finally lose the guy. Tony's fat ass just hid behind a house, swear he had pissed himself by the time he got home."  
  
"What about the car?" Ian questioned after his laughter ceased, as if that had anything to do with the fucking story. Mickey just shrugged.  
  
"Wasn't ours to begin with."

 

He watched Ian intently as he took a sip from his water bottle, one of those fancy insulated army ones. He had cottonmouth bad and was about to grab it out of the redhead's hands until hearing one of the most retarded things ever stopped him in his tracks. "You ever notice how ice just kind of like, floats around in it's own blood?" His eyes were completely cached and Milkovich was curious how Ian had managed to get higher than him even though he smoked all the time. Such a lightweight.

 

"I-.. I don't even know what that means?" He didn't want to make the guy feel dumb but god damn if it wasn't making him laugh against his will.

 

"Yeah.. Me neither."

 

 

* * *

 

  
  
          There was a breeze running through the field and it made the older boy shiver. It was that weird time of night where your own sweat could make you chilly, the temperature changed that quick. He remembered back when he was about thirteen, taking Mandy out here in the dead of winter and letting her smoke with him for the first time. She was an annoying person to get high with in the beginning, all giggly and touchy feely. Their dad hadn't even been mad coming home and finding them eating cheetos dipped in cream cheese they'd stolen from the bakery. Mickey wasn't sure he noticed. It was more likely he just didn't give a fuck.

 

"I wanna top," Milkovich turned his head to look over at his.. Friend? Yeah, sure, friend. He cocked his eyebrow in a way that was far too sexually confident for someone so deep in the closet he was practically in a different dimension. Ian got sidetracked from talking about geometric theorems or whatever the hell Lip was trying to shove in his head. Which is too bad, because Mickey was enthralled, obviously.  
  
"Okay, let me think.. Yeah, no. Besides, you forgot to bring the lube, _again_ ," Ian protested, pulling away at Mickey's hands when they started reaching for the zipper on his jeans. The rejection just made him want it more. "There's not enough saliva in the world, Mickey," he added quickly when he saw what must have been a flicker in the dark haired boy's eyes.  
  
He relented with a smirk, too high to come up with anything he thought would persuade the redhead into letting him. Sure, it wasn't really his thing, but sometimes he liked being on top. He liked his dick being the reason Ian's face contorted and his body shook. He liked the way Ian would whine and fucking whimper these sad pathetic noises. And he really liked the fact that he was the only person he'd ever bottomed for. That's what he had said, anyway. It was probably true. Kash seemed like too much of a bitch to ever top and the first time they did it, Mickey thought Ian was going to pass out. So he told him to shut up and take it like a man. Ian didn't squirm as much after that. Like he had something to prove. "Alright, ya fuckin' meow."  
  
"Did you just seriously call me a _meow_?" Ian pushed him roughly, egging him on into a wrestling match that landed them both on the cement floor of the dugout. Ian was stomach down and Mickey managed to get him into a headlock. It reminded him of the first time they fucked and that should not have brought up as much nostalgia as it did.  
  
"Sorry, you prefer bitch, right? You like it when I call you names, fuckhead?" Mickey teased, releasing his grip and trying to make a move to get off of him. There was way too much body contact and not nearly enough fucking going on. There was only a moment of relief before Ian grabbed his ankle, causing him to fall back down flat on his ass. His foot twitched and he ended up kicking the redhead in the side, something he felt kinda bad about afterwards but he was still laughing and didn't have much room for guilt.  
  
Preposterous as it was, Ian had somehow tackled him onto his back, pinning his hands above his head and holding his hips down with his own. Fucking ROTC. Shit was ridiculous. And let's face it, it didn't hurt that the kid had grown. He was taller, stronger, more confident than before. The stupid haircut was now clipped short against his head. Milkovich could barely even make out any freckles as he looked up at him.  
  
This had to end soon. More and more often, Mickey was the recipient of these long, staring glances from eyes that were too open and searching. It creeped him the fuck out.  
  
"Get the hell off me," he snapped, trying to buck his hips up enough to throw the redhead off. Ian might have gotten stronger, but Mickey would always have the upper hand when it came to experience. He pulled his head up, and to someone really damn stupid it would've almost looked like he was trying to kiss the other boy. Which made Ian lighten his grasp in just the slightest. Which allowed Mickey to pull his arms free and twist the boy off, leaving him on the ground as he hopped up and brushed his shirt off. "Faggot," he bit back a smile, shaking his head. Ian didn't look as amused. Tough shit. "Oh, cry about it. You want me to get you a tampon?"

"How many guys have you been with?" The other boy had ignored the taunt and picked himself up, sitting next to Mickey on the bench once again. Always with the questions. Always needing to be within reach. Since when did they do this? _Any of this_ besides the frantic fucking? It sure would be nice to be able to watch this all on replay so he could see exactly where he had messed up. Probably that time Ian came to his door crying about his mom or whatever. That was a stupid move.  
  
"What, you worried you're gonna catch something?" He rolled his eyes, thumbing his pocket for a pack of smokes and lighting one up. He hadn't even had one since before they fucked. And that was an hour ago. He was too caught up dodging and deflecting Ian's incessant blabber. "Thought I already told you I got tested in juvie, Gallagher."  
  
"So you haven't been with anyone else since you got out?"  
  
"I didn't say that, did I." Because why in the hell would he admit to something like that? Gallagher was really losing touch on this whole thing. It absolutely, positively, _had to_ fucking end soon. They could have sex one or two more times and then Mickey was going to call the whole thing off for good. But.. He would definitely need to find a new job first. So, okay. It would be over when he found work and wouldn't have to deal with Ian up in his face all day.  
  
"I just wanted a number." _Fine_.  
  
"I dunno, damn. Like.." He paused, thinking it over for a second. None of them were really worth remembering. "Six?"  
  
" _Six_?"  
  
"Yeah." He didn't know why, wouldn't tell anyone if he did anyway, but he sort of felt bad for the guy just then. So, he threw him a scrap. "But I never fucked any of 'em more than a couple times," he added, handing over the cigarette willingly when the redhead reached for it. Sometimes he tried not to notice how much harder he was making everything. Then Ian would go and give him that smile and it all came ripping back through his stomach. For a long time, Mickey had forgotten what guilt felt like. But that had to be what this was.  
  
"I gotta go," he reached for his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Already trying to plan out a way he could slip back into his house unnoticed and not have to come up with idiotic stories about some bitch he had been with.  
  
"We still on for tomorrow?" Ian was kicking his the toe of his shoe against the ground, drawing shapes in the thin sheet of dust covering it. "You said you wanted me to show you some of those sweet ninja moves I learned at ROTC," he finished because Mickey had clearly looked confused, not remembering that they were all of the sudden making fucking plans together and shit. Wasn't spending the entire damn day together today enough? He should definitely tell him to fuck off and take a breather. Besides, tomorrow was his day off, he planned on doing a job with his brothers to get some extra cash for food. He was sick of hearing Mandy bitch about frozen pizza and mustard being all they had to eat.

 

"Right.. Sure, whatever."  
  
His brothers could handle it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> btw guys i really don't understand how tumblr works/how to get my tags to show up but if anyone has any prompts for me to write a fic about you can leave them in my ask at hellevators.tumblr.com okay? okay.


End file.
